Out Of The Rut
by The Esper
Summary: When America and England break up, France takes it upon himself to get America out of the rut. Soon, he starts realizing things about America, as well as himself.


America had spent the whole day crying.

The happy go lucky, burger eating, smile wearing, should-be-overweight-but-he's-not Alfred Fitzgerald Jones spent his entire day _crying_.  
The morning started with him looking at his phone, then turning it off.  
_That background…we took that picture on our last date…_  
Then he cried, checked his messages-  
_Maybe he didn't mean it. Maybe he was drunk or something..heh..  
_The name 'Artie' wasn't in sight. He cried.  
Later, he tried calling him. No answer. He cried again.  
_He's ignoring me. _  
No voicemail or call back. More crying.  
Facechat message from China.  
_"Hey, Yao."  
"America? You don't look well at all."  
"I'm okay…really…"  
"….Japan told me. I'm…I'm really sorry, America."  
"It's cool dude; I'll get over ol' scone face…" _  
It was true, whatever rumors there were.

Alfred "America" F. Jones was dumped by Arthur 'England' Kirkland on Friday, September 23rd.

It was like those clichéd teen movie break ups, too; Sorrowful looks, use of the words 'We need to talk', a brief summary of their relationship, the words 'I'm sorry, it's over/we're done/it's over between us', crying, yelling, more crying.  
But if America was ever asked what the most painful moment of it all was, it would have been when England said before he walked away:  
_Don't make yourself miserable because of me, Alfred; please, please don't. You're completely incapable of accomplishing the simplest tasks without guidance, but you can survive without me as your boyfriend._  
But he **couldn't** survive.  
Two days after that, America was a pathetic wreck. He was literally plopped on the couch every day, eating ice cream and crying.

When he went to school, everything was obvious. He missed almost all of his classes due to him not being able to stop crying for one second.  
In his mind, America's world consisted of England, burgers, and everything else.  
Without England, that world was slowly crashing down.

Word went by quickly of America and England's breakup; the club dedicated to the two (founded by Hungary, no duh) disbanded in a way that was as tearful and melodramatic as the break up of the couple they admired.  
France disliked the idea of breaking up; he, being France, believed that love should last forever, even if the love is between a loudmouthed American and a cranky old Brit.  
So, after the whole ordeal, he was quick to confront England, only to be met with a snappish reply. So, plan B was to comfort America in any way he could.  
"Ello, Matthew," He smiled and waved at Canada, who smiled as well. "Bonjour, France; what brings you here?" Canada asked.  
"I'd like to talk to America."  
"Oh..he really isn't in the mood to talk after—"  
"I know what happened; just let me talk to him."  
"A-alright…"

_Let's talk this over  
It's not like we're dead  
Was it something I did? Was it something you said_  
Speaking of America, he was currently going through the classic 'I'm-sad-about-getting-dumped-so-I'm-going-to-listen-to-a-sad-song' phase, spending that entire morning listening to Taylor Swift and Avril Lavinge, and the occasional Carrie Underwood.

"_Amérique_? Open up already," France knocked on the door.  
"Go away, Matt." America said gruffly. He turned up the music so he could cry in peace.  
"It's France, America. Open up."  
"Shoulda known it was you. Who else calls me 'Amer-eek'?"  
The music turned off, and the door opened. There was America, looking like he hadn't gone to sleep in weeks. He had looked much thinner.  
_Amazing. How the hell is he so lucky, eating buckets of ice cream and not getting fat?  
Wait, this is the same guy who ate tons of burgers and didn't get fat!  
_"How long have you been in your room?"

"Since Friday," Replied America.  
"Have you eaten anything other than ice cream?"  
"Nope."  
France sighed. America was going to kill himself at this rate. And over someone like England? Unforgivable!  
"You are going to shower, put on your best clothes and brush your hair so I can get you some lunch." He commanded.  
"No thanks, dude." Alfred replied, slightly shocked by France's command.  
"That was not a request. You are going to get out of this house sometime this weekend. And you are not going to complain. Not even _once_."  
"A-alright, jeez…"  
Many would think that it wasn't like France to get worried over something, but America's state and his crumbling relationship couldn't be overlooked.  
He was going to help him through this if it killed him.


End file.
